Five Times Something Broke and One Time Something Didn't
by eccyclema
Summary: After Clara came aboard the TARDIS, it wasn't odd to find the toaster spitting out untoasted bread, or the shower water refusing to turn warm. For some odd reason, the TARDIS just doesn't like Clara.
1. 1: The Lights

_**Disclaimer: I wanted to see the stars, so I stole a TARDIS and a Time Lord from the BBC and ran away. But I'll bring them back… eventually.**_

_**I should be working on **_**The Essence of Being**_**, but between vacationing and such, I haven't had the time. Seriously, it's 3 in the morning as I write this.**_

_**This fic is the brain-child of two different pieces: ProfessorSpork's Gonna **_**Meet Her Connection**_** and something I read from the DW comic. In the fic, it mentions the Doctor can't get the TARDIS to make Clara a room. In the comic, Clara has a room, but the lights aren't working, and it isn't the first time. So my mind tied the two together and created this little thing.**_

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Incident #1: The Lights

It was boring, waiting for Clara to wake up. He had always had to do this, the waiting bit. After an adventure, there was always that lull that followed, and the Doctor was forced to do his own thing for a while. Sometimes he would go off on his own adventures, others he would just roam the TARDIS, hoping time would fly. (It usually didn't). This time he was doing the latter, wondering why humans had to sleep so much! Maybe he should recruit a resident of Djal next time; they only slept once a month.

But for now, the Doctor had Clara. Wonderful Clara. Feisty, curious, perfect Clara Oswald. Smirking to himself, he leaned against the console. _A Djalian would seem boring next to her._

In the time before Clara came aboard the TARDIS permanently, he had the option to skip ahead. Of course, he never told her that he did so. Was that weird? That he wanted to rush right back to her again? Clara's thought process was a mystery to him, so he thought it best to keep that information to himself. Now, though, she had a room on his ship, after much coaxing from the Doctor. Honestly, the ol' girl didn't want to cooperate, but he finally got his way. Well, after he made sure it was alright with Clara.

And it was.

So she was here. With him. Always.

Except when she was sleeping. Which was driving him mad.

_Maybe I should check on her…_

Before he could, loud crash emanated from one of the corridors, followed by a shrill, "DOCTOR!" Quickly, the Time Lord dashed from the console room, ran down a hallway, and made a sudden stop outside the door to Clara's room. He briefly contemplated knocking, but seeing as she had called for him, he realized that wasn't necessary. Opening the door just a crack, the Doctor peered around the door.

Pitch black greeted him.

"Clara?" he muttered, wondering if he had indeed heard what he thought he had.

A moan. Then a familiar voice, groaning, "I ran into something."

"I heard. You alright?"

"Not sure. I feel alright, but I can't see anything." Clara huffed. "The TARDIS wouldn't turn the darn lights on."

"Weird," the Doctor said, stepping into the room. "I don't think that's happened before. Did you touch anything?"

"I was asleep!"

"Oh, like that'd stop you, Clara Oswald. Remember the bubble-bath planet?" Definitely not noticing her choice in pajamas (honestly, who would wear a t-shirt that barely covered their knickers? Answer: she would, of course), he held out his hand and helped her to her feet.

"Doctor, I didn't touch anything! Now could you help me out and fix these lights? Or else I might just move into your room. It's not like you ever use it."

He started to say something, but stopped himself with a kind smile. Turning out the door, he set straight away to bring light to her room. It was the least he could do, seeing she had done the same to his life.

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_**Short, I know, but hopefully once I get the next chapter of **_**TEoB**_** up, I can work a bit longer on this.**_

_**Reviews make the world go 'round! x**_


	2. 2: The Shower

_**Still don't own Doctor Who. Still procrastinating on my other story. Still 100% done with my stupid Whouffle emotions.**_

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**Incident #2: The Shower**

After a particularly close call with a three headed dog named Ramsy the Rank, Clara stated that she was in desperate need of a shower because "this awful damp dog smell" didn't exactly suit her. So the surprisingly normal-smelling Doctor (honestly, it wasn't his fault Ramsy liked young human females over old male Time Lords) headed for the library looking for a book on interstellar biomatter and dynamics for a bit of light reading. No more than ten minutes had past when he heard the door creek open behind him.

"Doctor," a stern voice said.

"Ah, Clara, that was quick. Do you know where I put that book I had a few days ago? What was it..." He continued to search the pile of books that sat before him.

"Doctor, -"

"Something about life stars..."

"If you'd just-"

"_The Life and Times of Stars in History_? On second thought, that's a rubbish title... Why did I read it?"

"DOCTOR!"

"You'd be better off naming it _Boringly Written Star Stuff_, honestly it's—" He turned around and stopped midsentence, his gaze falling upon his dripping wet companion, garbed only in a damp towel. Clara crossed her arms over chest, and blood rushed to the Doctor's cheeks. "Oh."

"The shower shut off."

"Well I can see that." A water droplet rolled from Clara's shampoo-laden hair, down her chest, and disappeared somewhere underneath the towel.

"How about you divert your gaze somewhere other than my breasts, mister," smirked Clara, amused at the Doctor's reaction.

The Time Lord turned a deeper shade of red and threw his hands over his eyes . "Not my fault you're all drippy and… towled up. Can't you put some clothes on?"

"I'd much rather get all the suds out of my hair, thanks. Didn't have a chance before your wacky snogbox decided to mess with me."

"I'm sure."

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, Chin Boy," she said, rolling her eyes. "I've tried everything I could think of, but the darn thing just won't turn on. Can you have a go?"

Peeking between his fingers, a glimmer of enticement in his eyes. "What's in it for me?"

An exasperated sighed came from his companion, and he dropped his hands altogether. This was getting ridiculous. "You're kidding, yeah?"

"Well…" Stepping side to side awkwardly, he tried not to smile or blush yet again. Clara half considered chucking one of the books beside him, but an even better idea sprung to mind.

She shrugged. "I guess I'll just have to… stay like this then."

The Doctor's brows raised in shock. "Is that a promise?"

"Maybe. Bye, Doctor."

Clara turned and exited, again shutting the door behind her. A few minutes passed before the Doctor could shake himself to follow her. _Might as well just fix the thing before she bothers getting dressed_, he mused, trying to focus his mind on anything other than the thought of what had just transpired.

Three steps into his journey to Clara's room, however, he cursed himself as he made a curious discovery. Lying in the middle of the corridor, just outside the library door, was a single damp towel.

The Doctor didn't stop blushing for an hour.

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_**Crappy ending, as always. I hate endings, I never seem to get them right. Any who I tried to get Clara right, seeing as she apparently doesn't care about stripping in front of the Doctor (I encourage every Doctor/Clara shipper to read The DW book, **_**Shroud of Sorrow**_**, if they can). **_

_**A review a day keeps the Daleks at bay!**_


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